


when the truth is told (you can get what you want or you can just get old)

by Chash



Series: And So It Goes [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Persuasion fusion, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:05:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9386558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Maybe the right way to deal with Miller's new boyfriend asking if Clarke can come to New Year's is just to say no. Maybe that would be the safest thing to do.But it's been seven years, and Bellamy's still hurting. Closure's a thing, right? He can do closure.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is Bellamy's POV from the second part of [You Can Have This Heart To Break](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9294494)! But since it's so long, it felt like it belonged as a standalone instead of put in an alt-POV collection.

"So, Bellamy, fun fact, I'm actually friends with your ex-girlfriend."

Bellamy had, up until that point, been enjoying talking to Monty. He seems perfect for Miller, nerdy and hot and both sarcastic and optimistic, which is a good match for Miller's sarcastic pessimism.

So, it's really a shame that he's going to give Bellamy a heart attack.

"Yeah?" he asks, not looking up from his laptop. His voice is steady, but he's afraid his face would give him away. He can feel Miller's eyes burning on him, and this must be news to him too. He would have warned Bellamy, if he knew.

"Yeah. Clarke Griffin?" he adds, which is one of those clarifications that makes total sense, but is also completely unnecessary. Bellamy only has the one ex-girlfriend. "We're in the same queer student group at GW. I invited her for New Year's, but she wanted me to make sure it wouldn't be weird if she came."

Monty's tone is light and easy, like he thinks Clarke is overreacting to the situation, and there's no possible way that it could ever be weird. Part of Bellamy wants to press him on the point, on what exactly she said, because of course it would be weird, how could it _not_ be weird, Bellamy's entire life has gotten exponentially weirder in the single minute since Monty mentioned that he knew Clarke. But that's stupid, because Clarke probably just said--

The truth would probably cover it. They were kids, they went out for a while, they loved each other and grew apart, like they had to, like he _knew_ they would. It wasn't anything apocalyptic or terrible, nothing even very remarkable. Plenty of people get their hearts broken when they're kids, and Bellamy's been telling himself for a long time that he's over it, that the only thing keeping him from seriously dating was being enlisted, and once he was out of active service, he'd get his life together. And he's even been doing fairly well with the first steps of that. He's living with Miller in a pretty decent place, enrolled in a teaching certification program that will have him ready to go for the fall, and he's even been flirting--a little, tentatively, just feeling it out--with the bartender at Miller's favorite dive in the city. It's only been two weeks, but he was feeling good about it.

And now, Clarke wants to make sure that New Year's won't be _weird_.

"Yeah," he tells Monty. "That's fine. If she wants to come, she's welcome."

"That's what I figured," he says. "Awesome. I wasn't having any luck convincing her to come until she found out you guys were roommates, so thanks for helping me out."

"Yeah, no problem. Happy to do it."

The conversation definitely keeps going after that, and Bellamy even thinks that he contributes, somehow. He absolutely says words, he knows that. He replies to questions in a timely and appropriate manner, and definitely seems like a competent, normal person. 

But Miller sends Monty home earlier than he's pretty sure he was planning to, and then comes back into the living room with two beers, pushing one into Bellamy's numb fingers.

He'd thought, sometimes, that Clarke might be in DC, but it felt stupid to actually consider it, to let any part of his brain dwell on the possibility. After all, she'd lived in DC in high school, and she never gave any indication of it being a place she wanted to live forever. She'd missed living in a city and hadn't been happy to leave her friends, but he didn't think she really cared about coming back here specifically. When he'd let himself wonder about her, he'd usually imagined her living in Cambridge still, or in Boston proper, probably married to Lexa, going to Harvard young alumni events and talking about how great it is to be rich.

He takes a long swallow of beer. "That was fine, right?" he asks. "I seemed really normal."

"As normal as you ever seem," says Miller, but his voice doesn't hit a convincing teasing note. When Bellamy lets himself look away from his own hands on the beer bottle, he sees worry painted all over Miller's face, which is worse than anything. Miller doesn't _worry about him_. He worries about Miller. That's how it's supposed to work. "I can text him," he adds, when Bellamy doesn't say anything else. "Tell him not to bring her."

"Jesus, are you kidding?" He rubs his face. "She's here, I might as well see her. It's just going to bother me more if I don't." He swallows, looks back at his hands. "Besides, she was cool. She's probably still cool. And she checked if it would be weird, so she's not going to--be weird," he finishes, a little weakly.

"Uh huh," says Miller. "Seriously, you're allowed to never want to see your ex again."

"Yeah, I'm not thinking avoiding one of your boyfriend's friends is really a viable option."

Miller thinks it over. "Yeah, he doesn't have that many of them, honestly. If he's inviting her to the party, they're probably pretty tight. But--I'm pretty sure _she broke my best friend's heart_ is a reason not to see someone. We could work it out."

"It was a long time ago." He drains the beer. "Honestly, I wouldn't mind seeing her again. Closure, right? That's a thing."

Miller just looks at him. "Whatever you need, man."

It would be nice, if he had any fucking clue what he needed. But he doesn't think he could live with it either, if he told her not to come. Because he thinks he still knows Clarke well enough to be sure, absolutely and completely sure, that if he told her he didn't want her at the party, that would be it. He'd never have to see her again. She'd make sure to not show up if she thought he'd be around; she'd give him space. 

At least, he thinks she would. It's not like he actually still knows her. 

If he were smart, he'd maybe just let it go. But--closure, right? He can get closure.

That would be nice.

A guy can dream.

*

Octavia and Lincoln are on their giant holiday celebration trip, which Bellamy is only a little miffed about, so he goes back to Arcadia with Miller, and wonders the whole time if Clarke's there too. He knows her mother still is; Abby Griffin is one of the pillars of the community now, involved in local government, engaged to Marcus Kane, firmly rooted with no plans of leaving. 

Bellamy genuinely hopes he never sees her again, and he's just as glad he doesn't see Clarke, either. It's better to wait. When he sees her at the party, he'll be ready for her. He has plenty of time to prepare to get a hold of himself, and to figure out his life.

The party's going to be good. He's going to be fine. It's the best possible way to see her, after all these years.

"Definitely," he mutters, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. He looks--good, he thinks. Which is good, because Gina's coming, and he wants _her_ to think he's hot. This is going to be a great opportunity to get a feel for her when she's not working, to see if she's really interested in him or if she's just being polite when she's on the clock.

That's why he tugs his hair, adjusts his glasses, spends ten minutes debating if he wants to wear a flannel shirt over his t-shirt, or if he's happier without. 

That's the only reason he cares at all.

When he goes downstairs, a few people have already arrived, but no one he recognizes yet. Miller's sitting on the couch with his phone, so Bellamy just flops down next to him and kicks his ankle.

Miller kicks back. "Do we need a signal?"

"A what?"

"A signal. Like, if you text me a certain word or yell something, I swoop in and save you."

"What exactly are you thinking is going to happen here?" he asks, mild. "Like--what kind of emergency is going to arise where I need to call you in for backup?"

"I'm just trying to be there for you, but if you're going to be a dick about it--"

"I'm always a dick." He sighs, drops his face back and closes his eyes. "It's not a big deal, right? We knew her a billion years ago. It's going to be nothing. You don't have to worry."

"There's no statute of limitations on a broken heart."

"Wow. That was beautiful. That was, like, poetry, Miller."

"Fuck you." He looks so serious, Bellamy actually feels guilty.

"Look, I appreciate it," he says. "Really, I do. But I don't have a fucking clue how it's going to be, and it feels stupid acting like this is some huge deal. I'll see her, it'll be awkward, we'll move on with our lives. And if I keep seeing her, I'll get used to it. If it sucks more than I thought, we can figure something else out."

He feels Miller's hand on his shoulder. "I have plenty of exes I wouldn't want to see either," he says, and that's the problem right there, isn't it? It would be so easy if she was an ex he didn't want to see. Then he just wouldn't. Miller's right, there are a thousand ways to get out of it.

But he's so fucking desperate for it. He wants to see Clarke like a physical ache, is so greedy for the sight of her, for news of her, to know what she's been up to. All he knows now is that she's at GW studying museum stuff, and that's not nearly enough. He has seven years of nothing to fill, and he can't wait.

Monty shows up with Jasper first, and mentions, casually, that Clarke and their friend Niylah are running a little late but coming soon. The two of go upstairs to get the video games going, and Bellamy chats with Roan, who may or may not hate him, and Murphy, who hates everyone, until Gina comes in, and then he attaches himself to her. It's not just because listening for the sound of the doorbell is driving him crazy. He _likes_ Gina, he really does. She's pretty and funny and doesn't take him too seriously, like all his favorite people don't. He gives her a tour of the house and they settle in to play beer pong for a while, and it's good. Fun, even. He's enjoying himself. 

Then Miller comes by and tells him, "Look, I know you don't need a signal, but she's here," low enough that Gina won't hear.

He still glances over, makes sure she's engrossed in watching the game, cheering people on, and then asks, "How'd she seem?"

"Cool as a cucumber," Miller says. "I think she went upstairs to find Monty and Jasper."

"Thanks for the head's up."

He has plenty of time to find her, of course, but when Gina suggests they grab another round, he agrees. "I was going to go check out the video games after that," he adds. "Miller's new boyfriend is a shark."

"Yeah?" she asks. "How does he seem? He hasn't come to the bar yet."

"I've only met him once, but he seemed cool. Good for Miller, definitely. Total nerd."

She laughs. "But it's not bar serious?"

"I think it's mostly timing. They started dating right around Thanksgiving, and then I moved in. Between holidays and everything else, they're still virtually dating half the time. But that works for them, I guess."

"That's cute," she says. "I'm happy for him."

"Yeah, his dating life's been in a bit of a nose dive lately," he says, which is an unfair statement from someone who's currently stressing out about seeing the last person he dated, _seven years ago_. "So I'm glad he's working it out. What are you drinking? Another beer?"

She thinks it over, tapping her finger against her jaw. "Do you guys have lemonade?" 

"Uh, yeah, we should. Miller went all out on the mixers. He wants everyone to be able to get drunk however they're most comfortable."

"Such a good host. Can you fill this up like a third of the way?" she adds to Murphy.

"You're the boss."

Bellamy frowns. "What are you doing with a third of a cup of beer?"

"Beer-ade," she says. "Beer plus lemonade plus vodka. You want one?"

"Seriously?"

"What? It's good!"

"Yeah," he says, dubious, "that sounds disgusting. But you're the expert. I'm still sticking with _beer_."

"Your loss," she says, cheerful. "Feel free to be boring and pedestrian."

"Thanks, I will."

The lemonade slips a little when some guy bumps into her, and he catches her, is about to tell the guy off for not even apologizing, but he mumbles a _sorry_ that Bellamy barely even hears, because Clarke is in the doorway.

He remembers the first time he ever saw Clarke Griffin, for all he had no idea what it meant at the time. He didn't think she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, and he certainly didn't think she'd fuck him up for the next eight years of his life.

Mostly, he thought she was pretty, and that he didn't recognize her, which meant that she might be someone who had moved to town to live, for some unfathomable reason, and that she might stick around. And then he found out that she made bad jokes and wanted to talk to him, so it was easy to like her, and she got prettier and prettier the more he talked to her, until, by the last time he saw her, she was his favorite person in the world.

She's still beautiful, of course. Her hair is shorter than it was when she was when she nineteen, just above her shoulders, with a little bounce to it. Her eyes are wide and blue, locked on him, and her mouth is slightly parted. She's wearing a red and black dress that falls just below her knees, with black leggings on underneath, and she has two solo cups, one in each hand.

It takes everything in him to not go over and take them; it looks like she's about to drop them in shock.

But then she recovers, smiles just a little, and raises one of her cups in a mock-toast. His own hand comes up involuntarily, and Gina frowns and turns to look too.

Honestly, he'd forgotten she was even here. He's such a fucking asshole.

Clarke makes her way to them through the stream of people coming from the keg, smile faint but still surviving. She positions herself on the other side of Gina, giving him a little space, and her mouth twitches again. "Hey," she says.

"Hey." He lets himself take a short breath. "Gina, this is Clarke. Clarke, Gina. She works at Miller's favorite dive bar, I think he's trying to turn this party into free drinks." His breath catches on explaining Clarke, and he figures he can just skip it. It's a party, partially in his honor; he's supposed to know some of the guests. That's expected.

Clarke turns to Gina, her smile stronger than when she was looking at him. "Cool, maybe you can help me. Monty told me to get him a surprise drink, any ideas that would make him regret that?"

Gina is, of course, more than up for the challenge, and he appreciates that it gives him something to pay attention to that isn't Clarke. He doesn't think he can look at her again, not without staring, trying to find every difference, every small sign that she's not the girl he loved seven years ago.

Any reminder is a good reminder. 

But it's impossible to keep his eyes from straying in her direction, darting from her face to her hands, the slight smile as she tells Gina about Monty's likes and dislikes, the way she keeps tucking her hair behind her ear, the dent in her lip when she worries it with her teeth.

Gina finishes off the drink and beams at Clarke. "Where is he? Can I watch him drink it?"

"Wow," says Clarke, giving the drink a dainty sniff and then choking. "That's--impressive." Her eyes dart to him, a question in them, and whatever's on his own face must reassure her, because she tells Gina, "We're playing video games upstairs. How are you at Mario Kart?"

"Terrible."

"Good, you can play next round with me. I'm terrible too. Got your beer?" she adds, to him.

It still takes a second to find his voice, but when he does, it comes out even. "All set."

He and Miller share the second floor of the house, with Roan and Murphy on the first and Echo in the basement, and the video games are set up in their smaller living room, since most of them are Miller's. The room is already crowded, with no space on the couch, but Clarke doesn't hesitate in picking her way across the room and settling down at Monty's feet.

"The bartender made it," she tells him, nodding to the drink. "So you know it's going to be good."

Monty rolls his eyes. "Wow, I don't trust you at all." But, of course, he drinks, and chokes, and then makes _Jasper_ drink, and Bellamy has a sudden, horrible surety that this is going to be his friend group. These are the people he's going to be spending time with, for as long as he's here. Miller, his nerd boyfriend, his nerd boyfriend's BFF.

Clarke.

And Octavia, once she gets back, which makes him wince just _thinking_ about it. He hasn't mentioned the Clarke thing to her yet. She's going to be--he can't even imagine.

Clarke takes a sip from the death cup as well, and casts around for her next victim, eyes locking on him. But she doesn't make the offer and goes for a girl on the couch instead, who apparently has better sense than anyone else, because she just shakes her head and says, "Not if you paid me."

"I'll finish it," says Monty, with something like excitement. Miller's boyfriend is hardcore. "Who's playing?"

Miller twists around to look at him, eyes flicking up and down, like he'd be able to see some physical sign of Clarke-based trauma. It's sweet, really, but also completely unrealistic. Bellamy's never worn his scars on the outside. "Bellamy?" he prompts, apparently satisfied.

It'll give him somewhere safe to look, at least. "Sure. I'm in."

*

By around midnight, the room has emptied out a little, and Bellamy's feeling somewhat more relaxed. He's on the couch between Miller and Niylah, another one of Clarke and Monty's friends, the girl who came with Clarke and refused to try Monty's drink. Clarke is still on the floor, but far enough away Bellamy doesn't feel like he's in any danger of interacting with her. 

Gina's sitting by his feet, and when Niylah goes to the bathroom, Gina claims her spot, which means Bellamy can give her pointers on playing Mario Kart, and she can tell him he's not helpful, and it's easy and flirty and definitely fun.

He only feels a little bit like a bastard, but it's not like Clarke can care, right? For all he knows, she's dating someone. Just because she didn't bring them, that doesn't mean anything. She's the one who broke up with him, after all. She's the one who knew how to move on.

Jasper's pants start beeping, and he fishes out his phone to check the noise. "Okay, pause, switch to the countdown."

"Can't we just do the countdown on our phones?" Miller asks.

"It's not official without the ball!" 

"I vote for the ball," Monty agrees.

"I think the record shows both of you like the balls," Jasper says.

"You and Niylah are like the only people here who _don't_ like the balls," Clarke says. "Sorry, Gina, I'm just assuming you're into guys."

"Not exclusively," says Gina. "But yeah, I like guys."

"Yeah, same," says Clarke, and they high-five on it. 

"Wait," says Jasper, squinting at Bellamy. "You like the balls?"

"Like they said, not exclusively."

"Wow. It's just you and me, Niylah."

"I'm not against the balls," Niylah says. "I like girls, but girls and balls aren't exclusive."

"Good point," says Monty. "Let's not equate gender with hardware. Some girls have balls, some guys don't. The important thing is we've apparently we've got a lot of bisexuals in here, and that's awesome."

"The sign of a good friend group," Clarke agrees. She frowns down at her cup. "Shit, I need another round. Anyone else?"

"You'll miss the ball!" says Jasper.

She's already on her feet and making her way back out into the hallway. "I'll catch it downstairs. Don't worry, it's still going to be midnight if I don't see it."

"Now I don't have anyone to kiss," says Jasper, wistful.

"I'm pretty sure Clarke wasn't going to kiss you at midnight," says Monty. "But if you really want to try, you could always follow her."

Bellamy hadn't really been thinking about the whole kissing thing, but now that he is, he's acutely aware that a girl he's been flirting with all evening is next to him, and he's probably supposed to kiss her. And that would be--well, it just feels wrong, tonight. He's too rattled and too distracted, and he's been talking to Gina more to keep himself from looking at Clarke than because he likes her. Which sucks, because he _does_ like her. She's great, and he'd feel like a dick, if he kissed her tonight. Even just for a tradition.

Niylah's not paying attention, and Miller won't rat him out, so he fishes own his phone out of his pocket, swipes it open, and says, "Hey, O." He covers the speaker with his hand, says, "My sister," and makes his way out as well. He doesn't want to follow Clarke, so he goes down the hall to his own room, away from the noise of the party. Once he's inside, he puts the phone down and rests his forehead against the door, murmuring along with the countdown less as a way to ring in the new year and more as a way to get his mind on track and his breathing under control.

This isn't closure. He doesn't know what it is, exactly, but--it's no more resolved than it was before. And he doesn't want the kind of resolution she could give him. He doesn't want to hash out their breakup, because he _gets_ their breakup. He gets why he feels awkward with her, and she feels awkward with him. He understands every part of this situation, and, for some unfathomable reason, he wants to get past it and learn how to interact with her. He can barely look at her for more than a few seconds at a time, but he wants to keep seeing her until he learns how. If this is the last time he sees Clarke Griffin, he's going to be so fucking _pissed_. It's not allowed to be the last time until he can do better, until he can talk to her like a normal person, until his skin stops prickling with awareness and his heart stops beating erratically, until he can say what she is to him without choking on the words.

But he doesn't have to worry about that. It's not going to be the last time. She's friends with Monty, and she's too stubborn to be the first one to give up on this.

"Happy New Year," he mutters, and gives it one more minute before he goes back to the rest of the party.

"How was Octavia?" Miller asks, sounding supremely unimpressed. Jasper's taken his place on the couch, so Bellamy sits down against Miller's feet instead.

"Good," he says. "She says happy new year and thanked you for letting me come to your place for Christmas. She says you're a good friend."

"Damn straight," he says, and ruffles Bellamy's hair for good measure.

Clarke comes back up a few minutes later, sees Bellamy sitting on the floor and takes a recently vacated chair instead. It doesn't sting, exactly, and he'd probably feel weirder if she sat next to him, but--it's possible that there just isn't anywhere good for them to be in relation to each other right now.

And there's something a little bit nice about knowing he's not the only one aware of it.

"I think I'm probably heading out soon," she offers. "Niylah?"

"Yeah, once midnight hits, there's no point in being at a New Year's party. Are you guys coming?" she adds, to Monty and Jasper.

"I'm staying the night," says Monty, and there's some general hooting and catcalling. He rolls his eyes. "We're dating, I don't see how this is scandalous. Two guys in a relationship have sex, news at eleven."

"I have to wait until eleven?" Clarke asks. "That's like twenty-three hours. What's the point of the twenty-four-hour news cycle if I don't get my sex updates immediately?"

"Shut up and go home," Monty says, and she raises her cup. 

"Gotta finish my drink first."

It's only a few more minutes, and then he has to decide what he's doing about it. He's sort of a host, but not totally, and Miller's already saying he'll get their coats. Monty just wishes them a safe journey, and then he turns to Bellamy and asks, "You in this round?"

"Yeah." He lets himself look at Clarke. "Happy New Year, guys. Thanks for coming."

"Thanks for having us. Don't let Monty beat you just because he's cute."

"No, it's being good that lets me beat him," says Monty. "Later!" And then, once they're gone, Monty grins and leans in. "Okay, seriously, I need dirt. What was Clarke like when she was eighteen? I picture her as really straight-edge. Like Hermione in the first Harry Potter book, and college loosened her up a lot."

It's a question he doesn't know how to answer. It was hard to tell how she felt about this party, if she was checking items off her mental to-do list, what parts of interacting with him would be tasks, and which she didn't expect. It feels egotistical, how many of his thoughts about her revolve around himself, but that was how he knew her. She asked if he wanted to make out the second time he met her; he always understood her as a romantic prospect.

"More like the third book," he says, pulling his mind back to Monty. "Not quite all the way to full-on rebellion against authority, but getting there." He wets his lips, shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. It's been seven years. Of course she's really different."

She has to be.

*

"I think I need to spend time with Clarke," he tells Miller on Tuesday.

"Ask her out," Miller replies, without looking up.

"Not like that. I need to get used to her. She and Monty are really close, right?"

He can see Miller debating it, but then he says, "Yeah. She's his best friend after Jasper."

"So I should figure out how to deal with her. We could do something with you and Monty."

"Okay, just so we're clear: you're telling me you want me to figure out how me and my boyfriend can hang out with you and your ex-girlfriend. That's called double dating. That's what you're asking for."

"Jesus, no. That's not what I meant. Just--I can't just hang out with her. There's got to be a way to make that normal, right?"

"Dude. There's no way to make any of this normal. She broke your heart. It was shitty. You don't have to learn to like her again."

It's absolutely true, but not for the reason Miller thinks it is. But if he says he wants to see more of Clarke so he'll find something to hate about her, it's not going to help his case.

"Yeah, but I want to," he says. "Seriously, if I could just resolve this, my whole life would be better."

"Yeah, that's true. Have you told Octavia yet?"

"Fuck. No."

"How about Gina?"

"Why would I tell Gina?"

"Because you're not an asshole."

"Yeah, I am," he says, and Miller rolls his eyes.

"You're not that asshole. You can't date her unless you tell her what's going on with the two of you."

"You really like this bar, huh?" he asks, which counts as agreement, and they both know it.

"They've got trivia Thursday nights," he says. "I bet Clarke loves trivia."

"She loves drinking and being right," Bellamy says, without thinking. "Trivia would work."

*

Miller proposes the trivia team to Monty, and Monty volunteers Clarke before Miller can even suggest her, so Bellamy spends all of Thursday in the same state of itchy anticipation that he's gotten used to in the last few weeks of Clarke being a factor in his life again. It's exactly the kind of thing he's trying to fix with the trivia night, and he hopes it's going to work. He has to get used to her eventually, right? The first sight of her--when he _knows_ he's going to see her, when he's _looking_ for her--can't always make his heart stop.

But every time, he expects this to be the time he won't see her. Every time, he can't quite believe she's really sitting in a booth, waiting for him.

It might be easier, he thinks, if being with her wasn't so--ordinary. They're perfectly civil. She smiles at his jokes, contributes answers to trivia questions when she has them, teases Monty, chats with Miller, even asks after Octavia (and, to his delight, looks a little spooked when he says she'll be back back in town soon). 

Their second game, they get in a mild argument over an answer, and he has a flare of hope that it will be what fixes them, but she backs down way too quickly, and when it turns out she was right just says, "I tried," and drains her beer.

And it's not _bad_. It's survivable, the kind of thing he could do as much or as little as he needs to, but it also feels like he's constantly waiting for something, like he's living in limbo, and he doesn't know how to make it better. 

Octavia calls with her ETA the Friday after that second game, and Bellamy figures it's probably the right time to mention the Clarke thing. It's going to be worse if it's a surprise.

Octavia's feelings for Clarke are complicated, but still a lot simpler than Bellamy's. Octavia always believed the two of them would work out, surprisingly optimistic and romantic at sixteen, and when they'd broken up, she'd felt even more betrayed than he did. A part of Bellamy had always been expecting Clarke to realize he didn't belong in her life, but Octavia was sure love would conquer all, and it hurt when she found out she was wrong.

Maybe her perspective on the situation will help, but he's doubting it.

"By the way, you're invited for drinks on Saturday," he says. "Miller's got a new boyfriend, we're trying to merge our friend groups. Clarke will be there."

During the long silence, he pours himself some water and drains half of it, waiting for Octavia to figure out if she wants to yell at him or hang up or some exciting third option he hasn't thought of. Finally, she just says, "Your ex Clarke?"

"My ex Clarke. She's friends with Miller's boyfriend."

" _How_?"

"They're in the same queer student group at George Washington," he says. "She's getting her Masters."

Another long pause, and then, "That's it?"

"We haven't seen each other for seven years. What else would there be?"

"You haven't seen each other for seven years because she _broke your heart_."

Sometimes, he wonders if that's true. If he hadn't been so torn up by the breakup, maybe they would have stayed in touch. If they'd just decided to call it quits when she went to school and stayed friends, they might have managed that. And if he hadn't been so raw after Lexa's party, after having how much he didn't fit in with her thrown in his face, even the breakup might not have been so catastrophic.

But part of him thinks he just isn't capable of being friends with Clarke Griffin. That this whole thing is doomed to failure by that one fact.

"We were kids," he says. "Look, Monty's great, okay? And I wouldn't have dated Clarke if I didn't like her. Yeah, it's weird. But we're dealing with it. I think you'll like them, if you give them a chance."

"I'll give Miller's boyfriend a chance," she says. "And I won't talk to Clarke."

Weirdly, he feels sure that Clarke will win her over, sooner or later. Octavia can hold a grudge, but Clarke's being careful and polite and doing everything right. Once Octavia realizes that, she'll settle down.

"That's fine," he says. "I don't really talk to her much either. She doesn't mind."

It doesn't feel like a lie, but Octavia's not-talking to Clarke is a lot more pointed than his, and it clearly hits her harder than usual. Bellamy's playing pool with Miller, but it seems like every time he glances over, she's ordering another drink, and even as she gets sloppier, the tension never seems to leave her shoulders.

The thing about Clarke is that she wears politeness like armor. When she doesn't know what to do, she retreats into a distant smile and the stock lines she's known since she was small, until someone pisses her off. Octavia isn't fighting her, so Clarke's staying away, playing it cool, and getting drunk enough Jasper looks vaguely alarmed. Monty and Miller are making out in the corner, Niylah's not around, Gina is working, Octavia is pretending she doesn't know Clarke, and Lincoln _actually_ doesn't know Clarke.

So it's up to him.

"Oh thank god," says Jasper, with so much genuine relief he feels bad for not coming over sooner. "Please be good at dealing with drunk people, because I'm not."

"Yeah, pretty good." Clarke turns to look at the sound of his voice, and he can see the swoop of her eyes down his body, making his stomach churn. It's not really surprising, that she'd still be attracted to him. He's more attractive than he was at twenty-one, if he does say so himself. And he was her type before, so--yeah. It's not like he doesn't think she's still gorgeous.

But her eyes fall away from him, and he reminds himself she's drunk, so--it doesn't mean anything. He claims Jasper's stool and grabs her glass, sniffing. At least he likes cider.

"Jesus, how many have you had?" he asks her. "I'm finishing this."

She frowns. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to order another. You should get water."

She watches the glass as he drinks, not him. "You know you're getting cooties now, right?" she asks, and she sounds so serious and concerned that he chokes.

"I think I'm immunized," he manages, trying not to smile. "Seriously, you look wasted."

"I'm at a _bar_." There's a note of petulance in her voice, and it's such a stupid, huge relief. Clarke, letting her emotions through. This was what he was missing, and he can't even be mad at her, because he's doing the same thing; they're so guarded that they're barely acting like people with each other. "I'm supposed to be wasted."

"Let me guess, _get wasted and pass out on the bar_ was on your fun and spontaneous list for tonight," he teases, and Clarke starts like she's been physically shocked. 

An apology is on the tip of his tongue, not that he knows exactly what to apologize for, but she looks away again, smiling a little. "I don't need a list any more. I've gotten really good at faking it."

It feels like _cheating_ talking to her like this. He has to stop. It's not fair, to let her give herself away, not when she's been trying so hard. 

"Congratulations," he says, gruff, and waves Gina over. "Can she get a water?"

Gina gives him a smile which he has no trouble returning. He hasn't told her about Clarke yet, which means he's not flirting, but he's still friendly. He does _like_ Gina; he wouldn't have been flirting with her in the first place, if he didn't. But Miller's right, he needs to get his house in order before anything else happens with them. "Sure," she says. "You want anything?"

He raises Clarke's half-full cider. "I'll just take the rest of hers. Thanks."

"You can hang out with your sister," Clarke says, once she's got her water and Gina's moved on to other customers. "I don't mind."

"She's being an asshole to me too," he admits.

Clarke stares at him, and he has to look away. "Because of me?" she asks.

"No, not because of you." He sighs. "I was kind of a dick about Lincoln."

"Really?"

He shrugs. "He's a lot older than she is. I didn't think it was a good idea for her to go out with him, and I was pretty upset when she told me she was going home with him for Christmas." He pauses, wonders if it would make him feel better to say they started dating when O was in college, and Lincoln was already out of it, that he couldn't really believe they'd last, not after what happened to him. 

Octavia, of course, had insisted they would, and he's glad she's right so far, but--it still stings, a little. 

And he can't imagine it's going to do any good to say that to Clarke. Especially not _now_. Not when he's already taking advantage. 

"I went back up to Maine with Miller," he says instead. "I was sort of wondering if you were there, or if I wouldn't see you until New Year's."

"Yeah," she says, absent. "I do Christmas with my dad now."

"Ah."

He's still casting wildly for a safe topic of conversation when she bursts out, "I just want you to be okay, you know? Everything else is just--bonus. You don't have to be my friend, but I wish I could just--ask how you're doing."

His hand freezes on his glass, and he can't breathe for a second, but Clarke is staring down at her straw, and drunk as hell to boot, so he doubts she'll notice. "I think you could come up with a more exciting goal," he says, trying to make a joke of it, but she sounded so _earnest_. He can't just leave her hanging. "I'm fine, Clarke."

"Okay, yeah, you're right, I lied. I want you to be--" His heart rate spikes as she searches for the words, and he finds he has no idea what she's going to say. But he knows what he wants to hear. "I want you to be _happy_ , Bellamy. You should be so fucking happy. You should be the happiest."

It's probably the second best thing she could have said, and he can't help a stupid smile. "The happiest, huh? I'm pretty sure that's a hotly contested position."

"I know it's none of my business. I get it." Her voice is so _soft_ , and it's nice, at the same time it's heartbreaking. He didn't really think she regretted their breakup the same way he did, of course. She hurt him, and he's always known she didn't want to do that. And she thinks she broke him, which--she kind of did, so he doesn't blame her for worrying about it. It's nice, that she wants him to be happy.

There's just still a small, stubborn part of him that still wants her to want them to be happy _together_. And he really needs to find a way to shut it down.

"Fuck." She drops her head onto the bar, but in a soft, resigned way, so he's not worried about brain trauma. "I wasn't going to tell you. Why did you come over?"

"I was worried you were going to die of alcohol poisoning. You should go home."

"Or you could just stop talking to me," she points out.

"I'm not telling you to go home because I don't want to talk to you," he says, too quickly, but thankfully she seems to be too drunk to notice. "I'm telling you to go home because you're wasted and you're going to regret this conversation. Seriously, face off the counter, drink your water, okay? I'll be back in a second."

"It's really okay if you're not."

She's right, so he lets himself reach out, touch her shoulder for just a second, and then makes himself let go.

"Hey, Lincoln, can I ask you for a favor?" he asks.

Lincoln is really a great guy. If they'd met in any circumstances other than the ones they did, he would probably be one of Bellamy's favorite people. As it is, he still sort of is, but there's a layer of awkwardness between them he can't get past, like some sort of incredibly tough metaphorical plastic wrap.

He should probably get used to the feeling.

Lincoln's smile is warm and friendly. "What is it?"

"You said you were leaving soon, right?"

"I should, yes. Why?"

He glances back at Clarke, who is sitting up and drinking her water, at least. "She's pretty wasted, I don't want to send her home alone, and I wasn't leaving quite yet. Do you think you could take her? She's somewhere in Foggy Bottom, I think."

"Seriously, Bell?"

"She was face-down on the bar in despair," he shoots back. "Someone has to take her home. You want me to do it?"

Her jaw twitches. "Do you want to do it?"

"I want one more round of darts with Monty and Miller," he says. "And I thought Lincoln needed to go anyway. I'd really appreciate it," he adds. "She had way too many."

"Of course," says Lincoln. He leans down to press a kiss to Octavia's lips. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah. Have fun at the con. Don't let Clarke puke on you." 

Lincoln texts that he's dropped her off, and Bellamy thanks him for his help, and that's when Octavia says, "Are you over her?"

He really does love his sister. Asking all the questions no one else will. "I'm never going to be _over her_ ," he admits. "Not--shit like that still hurts. But I'm not pining away or anything."

Like most things he tells her, he really does think it's true. 

"I hope you know what you're doing," she finally says.

He wraps his arm around her and presses a kiss to her hair; "No idea. But it'll probably be fine."

*

"I think that was good vomiting," Clarke says.

Bellamy glances down, looks just long enough to see her wry smile and cold-reddened cheeks before he has to look away again. "Define good vomiting."

"He lost alcohol, not organs. And it sobered him up."

"Yeah, that's a viable definition." He passes her beer back. "Thanks for handling that."

"Thanks for not drinking my beer when I was gone."

The month since she got drunk has been--interesting. They've settled into what feels like a status quo, and Bellamy has to admit, it's a livable one. They come out drinking together, at least one person gets drunk, but neither of them seems to show much interest. They interact only when someone else seems to have a problem, and it's honestly a little _nice_. Bellamy's used to being the mother hen, and knowing Clarke is keeping an eye out too makes it easier for him to relax until the crises hit. 

And it's nice that she's willing to take Jasper outside so he can vomit in the alley, which apparently was necessary. Sometimes these things happen. He seems pretty upbeat about it.

"No problem," he tells her. "I did spit it in, though."

She considers for a moment, then shrugs and takes a huge gulp."Not like I've never had anyone's spit in my mouth before," she says, her tone so careful he has to hide his own smile. That's the other thing that's changed; Clarke's been starting to try out joking with him. It's been tentative, so far, slow-going and always way too serious, and he hasn't quite figured out how to tease her back yet, but--it's nice. Baby steps.

"That's the spirit," he agrees. "Seriously, I'm really glad you can handle vomit."

"Pre-med," she says, simply, and he really _wants_ to ask. The last seven years of Clarke's life are largely a mystery, something he's trying to piece together everything he can from stray comments and other people's questions. 

"I didn't know that involved vomit," he finally says. "I figured you had to actually get to med school for that."

"Maybe I was just really advanced," she says, and finishes her drink. "I've got next round of darts. Call me if anyone else seems likely to vomit."

He touches his forehead with one finger in a parody of a salute. "Trust me, I will."

*

The next week, he finds out what happened with Clarke's medical career, in the most infuriating way possible.

"How does anyone not have _heat_?" he groans. 

"She has heat _now_ ," Miller says. "Thanks to me. And how does anyone volunteer their best friend to repair radiators when everyone knows they're better at it?"

"Your pronouns are a mess."

" _You're_ a mess," he shoots back, which is impossible to deny and completely fair. "Look, this is Clarke. I don't know her as well as you do, but you can't actually be surprised she's too stubborn to admit she needs help, right?"

"No," he grants. 

"This is why you guys made a good couple, by the way," he says, casual, and Bellamy feels tension race up his entire body. "You're both stubborn assholes, but you worry about her, and she worries about you, so the two of you wouldn't get into a a situation like this. If you lived with her, you'd make her get heat, and she'd guilt you into actually putting away your laundry."

His mouth is dry. "Jesus, was it that bad?" he finally asks. "Like--you just never want me to ask you for anything again? That's cool, I won't, but--"

"I think you should get back together with your ex-girlfriend," he says. "I'm going on the record. And I think this whole, like, invoicing her for me fixing her radiator is beyond weird."

Bellamy latches onto that, because he honestly cannot process the first part. "That's not what I'm doing."

"Oh, yeah. Can't believe I made that mistake when you're literally writing up an invoice."

"It's for her super, not her. She's not going to pay it. But you shouldn't be doing free labor for the asshole who owns her place, so I'm helping her make him pay."

"Uh huh." He sits down on the couch next to Bellamy and prods him in the arm with a beer. "Seriously, you ever think this is a second chance?"

"No, because she's not interested," he says, taking a long drag. "She told me."

"Yeah, no she didn't. You guys can barely exchange ten words about trivia, there's no way you actually had a discussion about your relationship. I get that you think you did, but at this point you're communicating with fucking eyebrow movements, so I'm calling bullshit."

"She broke up with me."

"Seven years ago when you guys lived in different states. Like I said, this could be your second chance. Maybe not," he adds. "But--you should think about it."

Which is, in all honesty, one of the stupidest things he's ever heard, because he thinks about it _all the fucking time_. But, then again, he doesn't think he really thinks about it how Miller means it. He thinks about recovering something with Clarke, and he tries not to think about how much it would hurt, if she left his life again. He thinks about being friends with her, really friends, thinks about being able to joke around with her, laugh and smile and tease each other, about being a real team.

And then he stops thinking about it, because that's as far as his courage goes, even in his imagination. Friendship already sounds like a huge, barely possible thing.

But--it's a little bit nice, too, hearing that from Miller. He hooks his arm around his neck and tugs him in, despite Miller's protestations, and presses his lips to Miller's temple.

"I'll try," he says. "But--thanks. For going over there. And your bad, unsolicited advice. You got a hot date tonight?"

"Just with you, unfortunately. You think it's too late for me to get Monty over here?"

"Yup. You're stuck with me."

"Shit," he says, and settles in. "You don't even put out."

"Never say never. You did bring me beer."

*

Bellamy doesn't want what Miller said to change anything. After all, it's just Miller's opinion, and Miller is biased, in that he loves Bellamy and wants him to be happy, and it's not hard to figure out that Bellamy would be happier if he resolved things with Clarke. It's only logical to extrapolate from there to Bellamy being happier if he was dating Clarke. Miller seems to have decided that the more Clarke is in Bellamy's life, the happier he'd be, and, well--

That's the problem, because Bellamy had managed to tamp down on the part of himself that thought about that. He had one, brief, horrible moment of letting himself believe Clarke might want more than friendship from him, when she was drunk, and even at her drunkest, all she said was that she wanted him to be happy. So it only made sense to _stop_ thinking that, when it wasn't possible. But Miller didn't know that, and now he's brought it up, and now, well. The thought slips into his brain, sometimes. Clarke will be smiling, and he won't look away immediately. She'll get worked up about a trivia question, and he'll find himself arguing with her just to see the flush rise in her cheeks.

He doesn't think about kissing her. Ever. He really, really doesn't. But sometimes he remembers what it was like, and it _sucks_.

Which is about where he's at when Octavia tells him they're going to lunch, and she starts the conversation with, "Clarke."

"No, Bellamy," he says. "We're related, remember?"

She rolls her eyes. "Don't be stupid, Bell."

"Sorry, I had no idea what I was supposed to do with Clarke, as a conversation starter. What about her?"

Octavia worries her lip. "How are you guys doing?"

"I'm fine. Last time I talked to her, she was fine too." He drums his fingers on the table. "This conversation would be a lot better for everyone if you just asked the actual question you wanted to ask, instead of making me guess."

She huffs. "Fine. I want to do a camping trip for my birthday. It's going to be weird if I don't ask her, but if I ask her, she might say yes, and then you'd be stuck on a trip with her for the whole weekend. So I wanted to check with you first." She worries her lip. "And I guess, like--I know I've been kind of an asshole about the whole Clarke thing."

He blinks. "You have?"

"It's not like she broke _my_ heart," she says. "She's your ex-girlfriend, and I'm acting like I'm the one who should have a grudge against her. And Lincoln's pointed out that's shitty."

"A little bit," he grants. "But it's not like--I get why you don't like her." He smiles. "If you were hanging out with Atom, I'm pretty sure I'd be way more of an asshole about it."

She snorts. "Yeah, that's definitely true. But--seriously, I'll try to do better." She pauses. "It's gonna be slow going."

"Obviously."

"And if you don't want me to invite her, I won't."

"No, you should. For one thing, it would be really obvious if you didn't ask her. And that would just be weird. Besides, it's just a weekend." He can't help adding, "I _like_ Clarke. I wouldn't have dated her if I didn't. Spending time with her isn't a hardship." It feels like he says it a lot.

"It's not?"

"It's still a little weird," he admits. "Not, like--I don't know. We don't really talk about what happened before, but it's not bad. We're moving on."

"That's not the word I'd pick," she says. "But--I guess you guys seem fine."

 _Fine_ actually does seem like the right word. Nothing too enthusiastic, but not a train wreck or anything. He thinks if it never got any better, he could live like this. It's bearable.

"Yeah," he says. "We're fine. And you should invite her. As long as you don't mind her coming."

"I don't. But I still don't like her," she adds.

"That's fine," he says. "You don't have to. But--thanks for inviting her. I think she'll appreciate it."

"She better."

He's actually feeling pretty excited about the trip, for all it isn't coming for another month. Part of him expects Clarke to say she's busy, since finals will be coming up, but she RSVPs almost immediately, and it feels like--possibility. They've fallen into a routine with all their usual interactions, and it's not a _bad_ routine, not by any means. But he doesn't know how to get out of that rut, how to move past casual chatting and taking care of everyone to get more comfortable with her.

If nothing else, a change seems like it'll be good. 

Or, so he thinks, right up until Raven Reyes shows up.

Not that there's anything _wrong_ with Raven. But he can't actually help feeling a little jealous of her, and then feeling like an asshole, because he doesn't even have any reason to be upset. Clarke's given absolutely no indication she has any interest in Raven, but she's _gorgeous_ , and it's hard, seeing Clarke laughing and joking around with someone else. He didn't think she was interested in anyone else in their friend group, but Raven is new, and an old friend of hers, so--

He should be happy for them, really. It's like Clarke said, he _wants_ her to be happy, the same as she wants him to be. He'd like it, if she was. And Raven seems really, really cool. So that would be great for them.

But there's still a small, stupid, spiteful part of him that's fucking _stoked_ she's not in the same car as him and Clarke on the way to the camping trip, and he stays stupid and spitefully happy right up until he hears Jasper say, "Clarke gets the middle."

He's helping load Lincoln's car, but he can hear the dubious tone in her voice when she says, "Since when?"

"Monty's the boyfriend, he gets shotgun," Jasper relies, as if this is common knowledge.

"Yeah, that's a rule," Monty confirms.

"That leaves you, me, and Bellamy in the back, and you're the shortest. Shortest gets the middle seat," Jasper concludes.

Monty clucks his tongue. "That's also a rule. Sorry, Clarke, he's got you on this one."

"I'm going to elbow you in the kidney the whole time," Clarke says, and Bellamy tries not to think about it. Because, really, it's not a big deal. They're going _camping_. Close quarters are going to be a thing. 

But being crammed into the back seat for an hour and a half feels like a different kind of close quarters, and he spends the rest of the time trying to figure out how they can get out of it with no luck. He doesn't have a compelling argument for why Jasper should take it, and he could volunteer, but that wouldn't actually help. He could beg Miller to give him shotgun, but when Clarke tells him, "Jasper says I'm taking the middle," she sounds pretty upbeat about it, so he figures it's not worth stressing about.

"Sucks to be you," he tells her, and she rolls her eyes as she settles in.

It takes roughly ten seconds for his left arm to start feeling uncomfortable, and he can't help thinking how much better it would be if he put it around her. Then he'd just be holding her, instead of tingling with the awareness of how close she is. Every time he moves, he feels like she notices, and the he feels stupid for feeling like she notices, because that's definitely just--ridiculous. He's got to be the only one who's this aware of what's happening. But his eye keeps catching on her hand on her leg, and he keeps thinking about how easy it would be to reach over and take it. 

And, to his surprise, he thinks she might not mind.

The thought is startling, dangerous and thrilling all at once. He doesn't know what makes him think it, except that she's here and he's starting to get sick of feeling like he does, of wanting to be close to her and not knowing if he can be.

It's Miller's fault. Miller's the one who started him thinking this would still be good. Miller's the one who validated the part of him that never stopped being in love with his ex-girlfriend.

And then Clarke turns to him and grins, full and real, because they're on the same side, and he thinks that, yeah, he's going to _have_ to do something about this, sooner or later.

Because every time he thinks to look, the part of him that never stopped being in love with his ex-girlfriend has gotten bigger. And pretty soon, it's going to take over.

But it hasn't yet, so he keeps his hands in his lap and stares out the window, even if he can't quite keep a smile off his face.

*

Bellamy's always basically liked camping, in large part because Octavia liked it, and he could make it happen fairly cheaply. When they were kids, he'd just put up a tent in the backyard whenever their mom had a guy sleep over, and that let him turn it into an exciting adventure instead of just a creepy stranger invading their house. 

Later, when they couldn't afford to go on real vacations, Octavia continued to be thrilled about the idea of taking their shitty old tent into the woods and surviving off of camp rations, which was basically the biggest blessing of his entire life. So even if he has no particularly inherent affection for being in the middle of nowhere (or, as Octavia calls in "natural beauty"), he feels a profound gratitude for the entire concept of camping, and is more than happy to spend a few days in the woods with his friends, tromping around, disturbing the wildlife, and violating open container laws.

It's the stuff memories are made of. Provided you don't drink enough to erase them.

He doesn't really spend that much more time with Clarke on the trip than he does during their regular hangouts, but they're less careful about avoiding each other, it feels like. They sit next to each other for a few board games and trash talk, and he teaches her how to properly make a s'more, because she's been doing it wrong her whole life. Raven, to his immense relief, seems to be flirting with Gina, which is something that improves literally all parts of his life. He still feels a little bad for the way he treated Gina, even if all he really did was flirt for a bit and then taper off for a while, once he realized how much his feelings for Clarke were dominating his life.

Not that they hadn't been before, he realizes. But they'd been a lot easier to ignore when he wasn't seeing her, before he'd realized that Clarke Griffin never stopped being the person he wanted most in the entire world.

"Bellamy, you're single, right?" Jasper asks, right on cue.

He brings himself back to the present. They're gathered around the fire, O on his left, Miller on his right, Clarke across from him, stretched out on her back and staring up at the stars. He remembers how impressed she was with the number of stars in Maine, remembers climbing onto his roof one night with her and pointing out constellations. Maybe they can look for some later. That would be fun.

"Yup," he tells Jasper.

"And Raven and Gina," he continues, looking around the circle. "And Clarke's always single."

Bellamy freezes, and then relaxes slowly. No one has ever brought up Clarke's love life in his presence, aside from a few offhanded mentions about him. He has absolutely no idea what her romantic history looks like, and it's embarrassing how much he wants to.

"Why am I the only one who's always single?" she asks, sounding more curious than annoyed. 

"Let's see, I've known you for, what, two-and-a-half years? And you've never been on a single date. And Niylah totally wanted to go out with you."

Monty's nodding. "That's true. When's the last time you had a significant other, Clarke?"

There's a long pause, and then she asks, "Raven, does Finn count?"

"Fuck no."

"Who's Finn?" asks Jasper.

Raven leans forward, like she's about to tell a ghost story. " _My_ ex-boyfriend. It was so fucking dumb. This was--it was right after Clarke and I finished college. Finn and I were engaged, but he had cold feet. He met Clarke and was convinced they were, I don't know. Soulmates?"

"Or something," says Clarke. She's still lying on the ground, so he can't even try to read her expression.

"Yeah, so she went out on one date with him, finally, and then found out about me, and dumped him. But Finn wasn't great at taking no for an answer, so he kept trying for _way_ too long. And then--and this was the stupidest part--she was _with me_ and he comes in and starts telling her he loves her and she just shut him down. Honestly, it was great, because, god, it sucked for me, but she was just like-- _trust me, I've been in love before and this isn't it, you just have cold feet_. In the middle of a coffee shop. I think people actually applauded."

It doesn't have to be about him. It really doesn't. But it also can't _not_ be about him, at least a little. Because even with everything that happened, he never once doubted that she really loved him. That was never the problem.

He's part of why she knows what love is. That much is true, and he feels warm down to his toes.

"Just because I added _dickhead_ at the end," says Clarke, and pushes herself into a sitting position. Their eyes meet for a second, and then she nods once and holds up her hand so she can count on her fingers. "Okay, so, not Finn. One, Alex, sophomore year of high school. Two, Bellamy, summer after high school. Three, Lexa, junior year of college. End of list."

It's a lot to process, honestly. Bellamy had known she hadn't really dated before him, and he'd assumed that she dated after him, too. But somehow, hearing that she only dated _one person_ after him, and that it was _Lexa_ is harder than he expected. Not that--well, he was sort of expecting it, her dating Lexa. Lexa was clearly interested, and it was one of those logical things. They seemed like they'd make such a perfect couple, and maybe that's why it stings, that Lexa's the last name on the list. 

It's not like he's glad Clarke's been single for so long. But--if her last relationship was going to be in college, he'd rather it was with him. Or even with some stranger. 

Even Raven's ex-fiance might be an improvement. He wishes they were counting that guy.

No one else seems to know what to say either, and he can see Miller trying to think of a way to break the silence when Monty pipes up. "Wait, you dated someone named Alex and someone named Lexa? Are you sure they weren't the same person and they just reinvented themselves after you broke up in high school?"

Clarke laughs, and so do a few other people, and the atmosphere clears, and the conversation turns to other things.

But every time he looks at Clarke, she's holding her knees, looking at the fire, until, finally, he catches her looking at him.

She smiles a little, and he doesn't find it hard to smile back.

It hurts a little, but it's not _hard_. So at least there's that.

*

He wakes up early, like always, and takes _Going Postal_ out to read by the remains of the fire until Octavia wakes up. The two of them have always been early risers, and it _is_ her birthday, which means she'll probably wake up even earlier, and he can cook her breakfast and tell her he loves her when no one else is awake. Given how late the rest of their friends tend to sleep, Lincoln aside, it seems like a solid plan.

So he is no way is he prepared for Clarke sitting down across from him, dressed in a gray henley and plaid pajama pants, barefoot, with her hair in a wispy braid; her soft _morning_ makes him jerk up so hard he nearly hurts his neck. 

She looks warm and sleep worn, and part of him wants to lift up his arm, just to see if she'd come tuck herself under it. He thinks she really might, and just the possibility is enough to make him ache.

It's still not hard to smile. "Morning. Couldn't sleep?"

Her eyes dart to the tent, unsure, but then she meets his gaze squarely. "I think my tentmates want to hook up, so I'm trying not to be a third wheel. You?"

He shrugs. "Jasper snores."

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."

"No, it really made a lot of sense." He closes the book, not letting himself feel awkward. "You want coffee?"

"That would be great, thanks." Her smile as she accepts the coffee is warm, and it makes his heart skip. She looks like she really likes him, sometimes. "When did you get those?" she asks, startling him. "The glasses."

"Oh, uh. When I joined the navy. Required eye exam. Apparently I just sort of assumed the world was sort of blurry and no one else wanted to bring it up."

She smiles into her coffee. "Yeah, that's super impolite."

He tries to resist; he really does. The past isn't really something they talk about. But it's going to bother him, and it's not the bearable kind of bothering, like he feels every time he looks at her. "You dated Lexa, huh?"

There's a brief flash of surprise on her face, but she shrugs it off. "Yeah. Just for a couple weeks. Nothing serious."

"Really?" he can't help asking. "I always sort of figured something would--it seemed like the sort of thing that would happen, you know?" he finishes, a little weakly. It doesn't feel like what she'd say about him, but--all their friends seem to think they had an amicable breakup where they can still hang out as normal, so he doesn't know what she's said about him either.

At the same time, he can't imagine she ever said they weren't _serious_.

"It did happen," she agrees. "But the timing was wrong." She pulls a face, and his heart twinges. He's leaning forward, greedy. "That's a real problem for me."

"Yeah?" 

They both startle at a noise, and Clarke's expression closes at the sight of something behind him. He twists around and there's Octavia, watching them with wary eyes, like she doesn't know if she's interrupting.

He's not really sure either, but it's her birthday, so it doesn't matter. "Morning, birthday girl."

"Hey, Bell. Come help me cook, okay? You're way better with the camp stove than I am."

As graceful attempts to give him an out go, it's a pretty good one. Especially for Octavia. "Literally everyone in the world is better with the camp stove than you are," he tells her, and doesn't let himself look at Clarke. "What are we having?" 

They get breakfast going without incident, and Octavia leans in to ask, "Cool?" soft enough it's actually discreet.

"Cool," he says. "We're good, O." 

It feels like a bit of an overstatement, but they're not _bad_. Part of him wants to find her on the hike, fall into step with her, but most of him feels like they need to have a private conversation about their whole lives, and as much as that feels necessary, now doesn't feel like the time.

But if she says she's going to draw, he's definitely going to volunteer to stay with her. He's all over that.

And the rational part of his brain knows that his thinking about all that, his mildly obsessing over it, has nothing to do with Octavia's accident, that it has everything to do with _Octavia_ , just who she is as a person, but the second thing he feels is still a stab of guilt, once the panic has worn off.

But Clarke's the one who gets there first, and that counts for something too.

"Breathe," she says. Her voice is calm, focused. "Do you know the way back?"

"What?" he asks; it's more a reflex than a real question. The whole situation is too much, and he can't think.

Clarke's hands are moving as she talks, checking Octavia over. "No cell phone reception. Lincoln's bigger than you are, so he should stay to carry Octavia. I can patch her up, okay?" Until she shakes his arm, he doesn't actually realize the question is for him, but the brief, warm touch is grounding. "Pre-med, remember? I know what to do with a concussion. And it's probably just a concussion. You guys should go back, figure out where the nearest hospital is, and if it makes more sense to call an ambulance or just take her ourselves. Lincoln and I can handle your sister, Bellamy. I promise."

There are three other people in the world he trusts with his sister, and Clarke's plan involves two of them. He could leave Miller too, just to cover all his bases, but they don't actually need him. "Okay." He takes a breath, his reason returning slowly. "You know the way back too?"

She smiles, all warm reassurance. "Yeah, we've got it. We'll follow you as soon as we can, I just want to be careful about how we move her." Her attention turns to Lincoln. "You can carry her, right?"

"Of course."

She nods, gives his hand one short, sharp squeeze, and then all her focus is on Octavia again. "She'll be fine. Go."

"See you at camp."

Miller falls into step with him, Monty and Jasper quiet but anxious presences at his side. Part of him thinks they could have stayed to help Clarke, but it would just be because he wants them out of his hair. Clarke and Lincoln will be fine on their own. Better, even, if they can focus.

"What do you need me doing?" Miller asks.

"When we get back, we should start packing up," he says. Clarke's got Octavia, he can take care of everything else.

 _This is why you guys made a good couple_ , he remembers Miller saying, and he doesn't let himself think about it right now.

He's got things to do.

"I know we weren't leaving until later, but you guys shouldn't have to wait around until O's done at the hospital."

"Lincoln's one of our drivers," Miller points out. "And we want to stick around until we're sure you don't need us."

"We should still get the camp packed up," he says, and Miller nods.

"Whatever you need."

It's surprisingly easy to focus on the work, which is half the point of the work. It gives his brain something to do. But it's mostly that he knows he doesn't have to worry about his sister. Clarke and Lincoln would never let anything happen to her, would never do anything to put her at risk. If Clarke decides it's not safe for Lincoln to move her, she'll come back and tell him, and they'll come up with another plan.

If Clarke thinks she's going to be fine, he can believe it too.

That doesn't mean it's not a staggering relief when they get back, O conscious again, if groggy, and they get things figured out without much trouble. Lincoln drives and Bellamy sits in the back with his sister. She doesn't even object, which is the scariest thing; the less he fights her, the worse shape she's in.

"I'm thinking really hard about not hating Clarke," she tells him, after what seems like a lot of thought.

He smiles a little "Yeah? I don't even have to think about it anymore."

He doesn't let himself text her--just her--until O's all checked out, until everything is settled, and he's just hanging out by her cot, watching whatever shitty talk show she found to keep her awake.

 _Thanks for today_ , he sends, after about five false starts. _I don't know what I would have done._

Her response is quick, and he can just picture her in the car, in the same seat he was in on the way down. At least she doesn't have to ride in the middle this time. He hopes she's leaning against the car door, that maybe she'll get some rest. It must have been a stressful day for her too.

He wishes he was there with her, and that she was leaning on him instead.

 _Jostled your sister's head and destroyed her brain_ , she says. _Let me know what the doctor tells you._

 _Will do_. It feels insufficient, but he doesn't know what else to _say_. He already thanked her, so it would be weird to do it again. And it would be even weirder to say something like, _I had a nice time_ , because he didn't even talk to her that much, and the whole weekend is kind of overshadowed by his sister's concussion.

Mostly, he just doesn't want to stop talking to her yet, but he doesn't know what else to say, so he just gives up, puts the phone away and turns his attention to his sister.

Clarke's not going anywhere. He can talk to her later.

*

So, of course, she's not at trivia on Thursday.

"Sorry," says Raven, when he stops short at the sight of her. "Clarke's swamped with end-of-semester shit, so she tagged me in." Her grin suggests she knows something he doesn't. "I get that I'm a downgrade."

"More of a lateral move," he says, and slides in across from her. He hasn't talked to Raven much, but he likes her, in theory. He _really_ likes that she's into Gina. Maybe there's something he can do to speed that up.

Actually, given the state of his own love life, it's probably better if he leaves it alone. They'd be better off without him.

"How are you settling into DC?" he offers instead, and she looks a little unimpressed, but in a way he likes. Bellamy doesn't need to impress people, he's just trying to get through all his daily social interactions with a minimal of awkwardness. If all Raven wants to do is chat and be civil, he's totally down with that. Raven's great.

Which is why, after trivia ends, he sucks it up and goes to talk to Gina. "Hey."

Her smile seems real enough. They are, as far as he knows, still friends. She still seems to like him, even if he was kind of a dick to her. Or, in proximity to her. He'd never even made a move, but--he knows where they were going. He still _feels_ like a dick. 

"Hey," she says.

He rubs the back of his neck. "So, uh, you and Raven."

"I'm hoping." She cocks her head at him. "You and Clarke."

"Not anymore. Not for years."

"Uh huh." She's definitely earned the dubious tone, and he more than deserves it.

"Sorry I didn't tell you."

"Yeah, you really didn't have to. I kind of noticed." She slides him a beer. "I'm curious, though. And, no offense, but if you keep not talking about it, you're probably going to explode."

"It was a long time ago," he says. "She moved up to Maine for the summer before college, to my town. We hit it off, dated for a few months." His voice catches. "I knew it couldn't last, she's--her family is rich, even if she's not anymore, and she was going to Harvard. I was stuck in a dead-end job taking care of Octavia. She wanted to try, and--fuck, it's not like I didn't. But yeah. We were too different, she dumped me."

"In college?"

"Yeah."

"So, what, ten years ago?"

"Seven."

Gina nods. "Obviously I wasn't there, and I don't know what happened. I barely know what's happening now. But--you guys are in exactly the same place. So--what's the problem?"

He smiles down at his hands. "I haven't figured out what to say."

" _I'm still in love with you_ ," she suggests. "Direct and to the point."

"I never said that," he protests, and he definitely deserves that unimpressed look.

"I'm a _bartender_ , Bellamy. You don't have to say it."

He has to smile. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

*

It's not a lie, of course. He's not sure Clarke's left his mind for more than a few minutes at a time for the last six months, if he's honest. And now seems like the right time to be honest, because lying to himself hasn't been working out that well.

If he'd had the chance, he thinks he could have gotten over her. He was getting there, slowly. If, after he'd left the navy and settled into his real life, he hadn't ever seen her again, he would have started dating, and he would have done fine with it. He might not have ever felt the bright, hot way he did about Clarke again, but--that's not even the same way he feels about Clarke _now_. It's always going to be different than it was.

But he is still in love with her now. _More_ in love with her, because they both grew into themselves, and she somehow got _better_.

And he thinks he did too. He likes himself more now than he did at twenty-one. And he thinks he'd make a better boyfriend, too. If anyone was interested.

It's the interested that gets him, because--he mostly thinks she is, but it feels so daunting to just ask. There's still seven years of space gaping between them, and if nothing else, he's sure she's just as aware of it as he is. After all that, it seems impossible to just ask her on a date. It can't possibly be that simple.

And then she knocks on his table when he's hanging out playing video games at a coffee shop, and, all at once, it _does_ seem easy.

He hasn't seen her for what feels like forever, which is a little funny to think about, given how long he's gone without seeing her before. But he'd gotten into a nice groove of spending time with her at least once a week, and now it's been almost a month, and once the shock passes, he feels a ridiculous grin spread over his face. He knew GW exams were almost done, but he wasn't sure she'd make it to trivia this week, and he's got exercises this weekend, so he thought he might not catch her again until next week.

"Hey."

Her own smile is a little smaller than his, but he can't stop looking at her. He fucking _missed her_. "Hi. Can I sit here?"

"Sure," he says, clearing a space for her, stowing his headphones and trying not to beam. He had an appointment downtown and he's supposed to be meeting his sister later, so he just stopped her on a whim, to avoid going all the way back out to Virginia. And now he's got _Clarke_ , right here, all to himself.

She sheds her coat and drapes it over the chair. Her drink is in a mug, not a paper cup, and she shows every indication of settling in for a long stay.

"How'd finals go?" he asks, once she's set.

"Good. I'm going to graduate, so that's the important thing, right?"

"I assume so."

"How about you? Are you going to be allowed to teach in the state of Virginia?"

"Somehow."

Her smile lights up her whole face, and he has to look away. The sheer delight she seems to get from his finishing his teaching degree is still more than he can handle, even after five months. "That's so cool. I'm really excited for you."

"Honestly, it might kill me. Fuck, teaching is a lot of work."

"Yeah," she says, sure. "But you're going to be great at it."

They chat about Octavia a little and lapse into silence, but it's not a bad silence. It's a little nice, if he's honest, not because he doesn't want to talk to her, but because it feels so comfortable. Like they can just coexist.

Clarke's the one to end it, tapping one finger against his DS, right on the R2-D2 sticker she stuck to it. He's expecting her to ask why he hasn't gotten a new one--which he has, because the 3DS has some awesome games, but he'll always use this one for preference when he can--but instead she says, "What are you playing?"

It's only a little bit embarrassing. "Oh, uh--Pokemon Conquest?"

"I don't know that one."

"It's really weird," he admits. When she just cocks her head, he figures she really wants to know, and just goes for it. Friends talk. "It's--there's this really popular series, Nobunaga's Ambition? It's all these turn-based strategy games about the Japanese Civil War and unification. So obviously someone decided it made sense to cross that over with Pokemon."

He didn't mean to time it with her taking a drink, but she splutters a little, laughing. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah, seriously." He hesitates for half a second, but--there's no way he's not taking full advantage of this situation. He slides his chair around the table so he can sit next to her, close enough their arms are brushing, and she scoots closer when he flips open the DS. "Japanese feudal warlords fighting over city states. With Pokemon."

She's laughing now, really laughing, no sign of tension at all, and he's trying not to let himself be mesmerized. 

Maybe it really is this easy. It's not like the two of them don't deserve some easy, at this point.

"Holy shit," she says.

"Yeah, I have no idea how this got made."

She bumps her shoulder against his. "But you bought it."

"Can you blame me? It's actually really fun. It's pretty old now, but I felt like starting it over once I finished up with my teaching stuff. I never found everyone's perfect partner. That's the stuff that haunts you."

"Perfect partner?" Clarke asks, leaning in, and he finds himself leaning in too.

If someone had told him a year ago that he'd someday be sitting next to Clarke Griffin, showing her how to play Pokemon Conquest in a coffee shop, he's honestly not sure what he would have thought. It feels a few steps beyond unbelievable. But here she is, coming up with her own names for his Pokemon and warlords, giving him completely uninformed tactic advice, grinning at him every time he defeats one of his enemies, and he's about ten seconds from kissing her and praying when he hears someone say, "Clarke?"

They both start, but Clarke recovers first. Bellamy's still stuck frozen at the sight of Lexa.

He doesn't hate Lexa, not really. She was a dick to him when they knew each other, but in an understandable way. She clearly had a thing for Clarke, and he couldn't blame her. The class stuff was annoying, but not enough to rise to the level of _hate_. Mostly he thought she was kind of an elitist asshole, but she and Clarke had been friends for a while, so he was willing to let it slide.

But he still didn't _like_ her.

Clarke is smiling, but he doesn't think he's imagining the slight disappointment in her eyes. "Oh, hey, sorry. I totally lost track of time. Lexa, you remember Bellamy, right?"

"Vaguely. The electrician."

Cool, he doesn't have to start liking her now either. That saves him some trouble.

"Pre-teacher," he says, but Clarke says, "Plumber," with just enough of an edge that he thinks it's not the first time. The thought of it does funny things to his stomach, the idea that Lexa spent years deliberately forgetting things about him, and Clarke never let her get away with it.

"Of course," says Lexa smoothly. She nods to him. "How have you been, Bellamy?"

"Fine. Am I interrupting something?" he can't help adding. He had no idea Clarke even still _knew_ Lexa, but it's obvious they had plans. Her finding him here was a coincidence; Lexa came looking.

Clarke rolls her eyes. "Of course not, you were here first. We're just going to the movies. Apparently I haven't seen her in months and I'm letting our friendship die."

It should make him feel better, right? He and Clarke have been seeing each other a good deal. Not the last month, admittedly, but--

Honestly, what really gets him is that Lexa _can_ do that. That she knows how to just call Clarke up and say she misses her. And that she and Clarke can just go to movies like it's no big deal. He'd been feeling good about his spending an afternoon with her without anyone else around and with only minimal awkwardness, and it's bracing to remember that it's really, really not a big deal, and the fact that it feels like one is maybe a bad sign.

"You want to come?" Clarke asks.

"What?" he asks, shaking himself out of his thoughts.

Her smile _still_ makes him feel hopeful, though. "To the movie."

He rubs the back of his neck. "Oh, uh--no, I'm supposed to meet O for dinner soon." It's true, but he's pretty sure it comes out sounding like a lie. Possibly because ten minutes ago he was seriously considering bailing on his sister and asking Clarke out instead. "That's why I was--" he ads, with a vague gesture to the coffee shop. "Anyway, yeah, uh--you guys have fun? I'll see you later?"

Lexa looks deeply unimpressed, but Clarke seems a little anxious. "Trivia tomorrow, right?"

They're going to be friends, no matter what. He really believes that. "Trivia tomorrow," he confirms. "Have fun at the movie. Good to see you again, Lexa," he lies, just in case she's going to join their group now or something. He can pretend to be civil.

"You too," she says, and he puts his headphones back in, finishes his battle in Pokemon Conquest, and then goes to meet his sister.

She takes one look at him and asks, "What's wrong?"

"That obvious?" he asks, rubbing his face.

"Not really, I just sort of assumed you wanted to have dinner because you were having a crisis."

"Weirdly no, I just wanted to spend time with you because I love you."

"Gross. So what's wrong now?"

"I was hanging out with Clarke."

"I thought you liked hanging out with Clarke," she says. He can't tell if she's actually cool with this, or just wants to be supportive. But she was already putting more of an effort in, and that was before Clarke helped with the concussion. So this should be something they can talk about.

"Yeah," he admits. "But then her ex-girlfriend showed up to take her to the movies, so."

"Like on a date?" 

Octavia doesn't sound so much angry as genuinely shocked, which makes him feel a little better. And foolish, because--no, he doesn't think that. It definitely wasn't a date.

"She asked me to come along, so, no." He runs his hand through his hair. "Fuck, O. I don't know what to do."

"Tell her you're still in love with her," she says, which, after Miller and Gina, puts him at three for three. "Be happy."

"Wow. You make it sound so easy."

She doesn't smile, doesn't make a joke. "I'm pretty sure it is," she says. "You know I'd tell you if I thought it was a bad idea. Or if--the last thing I want her to do is hurt you again. But I'm pretty sure she wants to hurt you even less than I want that to happen, so--yeah. You're my brother, and I love you, and I want to be happy. So you should talk to her."

"Wow," he says. "That was a lot."

She shrugs one shoulder. "If I knew she still liked you this much, I would have told you to do it ages ago."

He slings his arm around her, smiling a little in spite of himself. "Yeah. If I'd known I would still like her this much, I might have."

*

He's a little nervous at trivia, for no good reason, but Clarke is the same Clarke she always is, and he's more and more convinced that part of being the same Clarke she always is is still being into him. Which doesn't mean he has any particularly good idea of what to say to her, but it's enough to convince him he has to say _something_. 

Which only does him so much good, because he hasn't figured out what. Telling her that he still loves her feels like so _much_ , even if it's true. But just asking her on a date feels bizarre, with all the history they have. He can't imagine just going on a date with her again, having some sort of casual courtship, not after everything.

He's out of town over the weekend, but they chat off and on, and they see each other at the next Thursday trivia as usual, but he doesn't get a chance to get her alone. When Jasper sets up drinks on Friday, it feels like a good opportunity. He and Clarke are often the last ones left at the bar, aside from Miller and possibly Monty, and Bellamy doesn't think it'll be hard to get them out first so he can talk to her.

He still doesn't know what he's going to say, but he's got a few hours of drinking and hanging out during which he can figure it out. Maybe he can just kiss her. That would be nice. Even if she turns him down, he'd kind of like to kiss her one last time. Just so he'll have it to remember.

"Fuck, I'm pathetic," he mutters, and grabs his keys and wallet on his way out the door.

He's most of the way to the bar when his phone buzzes, and his first assumption is that it's Clarke saying she's not coming, because that seems like the level of luck he's working with. But to his relief, it's just Octavia, with a profanity-riddled message about how terrible her boss is.

 _I feel like I've already used my weekly "get a new job" message_ , he replies. _So I'm just going with "that's rough, buddy."_

 _There are times when murder isn't a crime, right?_ Octavia shoots back, so it's going to be one of _those_ nights. Which doesn't mean he can't talk to Clarke; it just means he's going to be distracted. Octavia's boss is always a nightmare, and she was pretty sure her extended vacation at Christmas would make it worse, but he'd approved it, and she really needed the break. But the guy still hasn't forgiven her, so she really, _really_ needs a new job.

He can be the sympathetic brother for a night. He's still out being social with his friends. It's fine. He'll multitask.

When Monty spots Bellamy, he vacates the seat to Clarke's left, so it would obviously be impolite to sit anywhere else. He slides in, lets himself smile as much as he wants to when she smiles at him first.

"What's the problem?"

She leans in close, keeping her voice as quiet as his. So she can't be that drunk. "Jasper's office crush turned him down, so now he thinks no one will ever love him."

In theory, Bellamy feels like he should have bonded with Jasper, some sort of ally in being single and sad about it. But he's never quite gotten there, because Jasper just wants to date _someone_ , without seeming to realize everyone he's ever expressed interest is pretty out of his league and doesn't realize he exists. So even if he's largely sympathetic, but they have very different issues. "Yeah, that's how it works, " he tells Clarke, and flags Gina down so he can get a drink of his own before he replies to Octavia's latest complaint. "Sorry, O's having a crisis too," he explains to Clarke.

She frowns. "Is her head okay?"

He has to smile; it really is nice, having someone else who frets like he does. "Yeah, totally unrelated. Her boss is a dick, so she's at work rage-texting me and Lincoln."

"That sucks."

"Yeah. So I'm tagging you in for primary Jasper duty. Just let me know if you need me."

"I think we've got it handled," she says. "Give me your phone if you get tired of dealing with Octavia."

"Yeah, I'm not falling for that. You just want access to my phone."

She grins like a shark. "Wait, do you have something good on there? What would I be sneaking around to find?"

Miller texted _Your girlfriend is here and I'm not an expert but I think she looks hot_ earlier, but he's not actually sure that's incriminating. But he's sure there's something worse somewhere.

"I have important naval secrets on here," he tells her. 

"I'm thinking you bought, like, the entire My Little Pony series on iTunes, and you don't want me to find it."

"One of my navy buddies was really into that show," he admits. "So that could happen."

She ducks her head on a laugh, but his phone buzzes again before he can say anything else, and Monty calls Clarke in for darts. 

He sticks to the bar, and the rest of them drift in and out. To his disappointment, when they finally settle, he's got Monty and Jasper separating him from Clarke, but it's not like he's really participating in the conversation anyway, so he doesn't have legitimate reason to complain. He just likes being near her.

He's mostly zoning out of the conversation, which is about TV shows he doesn't watch, but then there's a lull, and Jasper breaks the silence with, "You know what happened? I waited too long." Which sounds like the start of a potential crisis, so it's probably time to start paying attention.

Clarke's the one to ask, "What do you mean?" She takes her duties seriously.

"I should have said something sooner. But I waited too long, so now I'm in the friend zone, and I'll never get out."

There are few dating concepts that piss Bellamy off more than the friend zone, and he'd be tempted to step into the conversation himself, but he's got another text from O, and he's trying to google work-code violations while he's at it, so he figures he'll just tag in later.

Besides, as always, Clarke has him covered. "Okay, no. The friend zone isn't a thing. That's not real."

"Yes it is."

"No, it's not." She huffs. "It's sexist and stupid and it's based on this idea that--relationships are tests, and if you haven't told a girl you're into her by a certain date, you fail and lose access to her magical vagina. That's not how it works. I guess sometimes, you can miss the opportunity to date someone, but it doesn't work like that. The timing can be wrong, but I've never wanted to date someone and then stopped because they took too long to make a move."

His fingers stutter on the keypad and stop.

"You don't want to date people anyway," Jasper tells her. "So you don't count."

"I don't want to date _everyone_ , that's different from not wanting to date _anyone_ ," she says, and Bellamy finds himself navigating into his gmail app and opening up a draft, listening with one ear as Clarke--as Clarke talks about herself, for a change.

_If you're not talking about me right now, you can stop reading this. If you're talking about Lexa or some person I've never met, that's cool, and I hope it works out for you. I really do._

"Look, there's no time limit on feelings," she's saying, keeping her tone gentle. "If she said she just wants to be friends, it's probably not because she liked you at first and then stopped."

"Unless your personality is just that shitty," says Monty, and Bellamy hears a soft snort from Clarke, like a little relief of tension. "Sorry, bro. The hard truths."

"When I'm in love with someone, I want to be friends with them too," she goes on, like he didn't say anything. "I can't fall in love with someone I don't want to be friends with, not really. But--I don't stop being in love with them either."

_You know what I think about a lot? Back in January, when I still didn't know how to look at you, when you got drunk and told me you wanted me to be okay and happy. Because that's what I want for you too. I wanted it even then, and I was still so fucked up about you that I thought I'd never be able to talk to you like a normal person again. So seriously, if you're talking about someone else, I hope you tell them and they feel the same way, and they're an idiot if they don't._

"It doesn't matter how long it takes. And, okay, maybe the other person doesn't feel the same," she adds, in a rush. He hopes that one's for Jasper's benefit. "You can miss a chance, I get that. But that's not the same. If I was interested in someone, and I thought they weren't, then, yeah, I'd try to stop being interested. But if a year or two years or three years later, we still knew each other, and they said something? I wouldn't say, no, we're friends now. I'd go for it."

_But what I really want is for you to be talking about me, because I'm so fucking in love with you. I don't think I ever stopped being in love with you. I wanted to, because I didn't think I'd ever see you again. Miller told me you asked about me right after I enlisted, and the next time I was home on a Harvard break I tried to find you, but you didn't come back. So I thought you just wanted to say goodbye to me, and you didn't really care._

"So she was never interested," Jasper says. Bellamy actually _does_ feel bad for him now, because if he's right, Clarke is using Jasper's heartache to tell him how she feels.

To be fair, though, Jasper's the one who brought up the friend zone. So he deserves what he gets.

"Probably not. Sorry." He hears her sigh. "Look, it's--I hate the way people complain about that, because it sucks when you're in love with someone and they don't want anything to do with you. Friendship isn't the consolation prize, it's so much better."

_Fuck, this doesn't matter. What matters is that everything you said about how you felt, I feel the same way about you. I missed you so much, and if you aren't interested in anything more than friendship, I'm still so fucking grateful we can be friends again. But I still love you, and if you figure out in a year, or two years, or three years, that you love me too, I'm going to say yes._

"And she might change her mind someday. I'm not saying to get your hopes up," she adds quickly. "But if you like her, why don't you want to be friends with her? That's great."

"Because I want to get _laid_ ," Jasper moans, and then he hears a fairly startling crash. 

At least Clarke will know if anyone got concussed.

There's a pause, and then Monty says, too perky, "Okay! I think that's our cue to take him home. He can crash on your couch, right?" he adds, and Bellamy checks to make sure he's talking to Miller. He likes to know when Jasper will be on his couch.

"See? You're going to get laid," Jasper says, petulant.

"Yeah." Miller claps his hand on Bellamy's shoulder. "Bellamy, you coming or staying?"

"Coming, one sec," he says. 

_I'll always say yes._

He turns off the phone and stands to stretch, letting himself look at Clarke for the first time since she started talking. There's a slight flush on her cheeks, and she's biting the corner of her mouth, but she doesn't shy away from his gaze. "Clarke, you got everyone else?" he asks, and her expression melts into an amused smile.

"It's just Raven. I think I can handle Raven."

He wants to kiss her so much he can taste it. But he settles for saying, "Cool. Talk to you later."

"Later," she echoes, and he makes himself go outside.

"I had no idea Clarke had such strong feelings about the friend zone," Miller observes, once they're on the train. Jasper is propped on Monty's shoulder, and Monty is poking him in the ribs periodically, ostensibly to make sure he doesn't have a concussion, but mostly just to make him squawk. 

Bellamy's sitting across from the three of them, trying to come up with some kind of coherent and semi-charming introduction to "feelings: the email." It's not going great.

"Well, she's right, it's bullshit."

"Uh huh. Definitely no underlying issues there."

"Shut up, Miller."

"Seriously," he says, and Bellamy gives him half a smile.

"I'm dealing with it, okay? Trust me, there's no way I'm ignoring that."

"Good. Seriously, I'd kick your ass."

"I think I missed something," says Jasper, and Monty pets him.

"Don't worry. You'll figure it out when you sober up."

Bellamy stares down at the email, lip caught in his teeth. He doesn't have to send it, but it feels kinder, in a way. If Clarke wasn't talking about him, she can just ignore the message, and they can pretend it never happened. Friendship preserved, everyone saves some face. Just like he'd probably ignore what she said at the bar, if he wasn't in love with her.

And, honestly, if Clarke was talking about him, she got to get out _her_ love confession out without actually saying it to his face, so she shouldn't mind if he does it via email. Fair is fair, after all.

And just thinking that, it suddenly feels easy. Because, at the end of the day, this is _Clarke_. 

_I'm assuming you guys made it home okay, you didn't seem that drunk, but maybe don't read this until you're alone_ , he types, and Miller has to kick him to get him away from his phone at their stop.

"Don't tell me you're texting her," he says.

He makes a show of rolling his eyes. "Come on, no way. I would never." He gives it a beat, for full dramatic effect. "Emailing."

Miller groans and bumps his shoulder against Bellamy's. "Wuss."

"Hey, I'm the one she's in love with," he says. The words taste so right on his tongue. "So I should know what she likes, right?"

Miller shakes his head. "I sure hope so, yeah."

*

To say Bellamy doesn't sleep that well is like saying that second season of _Friday Night Lights_ went a little off the rails. It's true, just such an understatement that if feels like a lie. He keeps waking up, thinking it's morning, seeing it's not morning, and then opening up his email, making sure he doesn't have any new messages, and staring at the sent folder to verify that he really _did that_.

Fuck. 

He's not even really _expecting_ a reply from Clarke. She's not really the type to do this sort of thing over email. They've got board games on Sunday, and he'll see her there either way, so--that's something, right? 

It's not like she's going to come over in the middle of the night, even if she saw the email. She'd at least wait until everyone was awake. So his inability to sleep doesn't even make _sense_. He has no expectations of anything.

He gives up on sleeping entirely at around eight and goes downstairs for coffee, but he doesn't really want to see any other humans, so once he's got his mug, he just settles back in bed with his DS to continue his domination of feudal Poke-Japan.

His phone doesn't buzz, and he doesn't let that bother him. He's still not expecting it to.

It's just before 9:30 when someone knocks on his door, and he honestly assumes it's Jasper, even though it's a little early for him to be up. Monty and Miller tend to sleep in, so Jasper usually comes to him when he's bored and lonely and looking for company. Which is probably fine. He could use the distraction.

But then, there's Clarke.

She's wearing a faded red Harvard t-shirt and jeans, her hair loose and tumbling down, brushing her shoulders, and she's looking up at him like she somehow didn't expect to see him, even though she was knocking on his door.

Even though she came looking for him.

"Hi," he manages.

"Hi. Can I come in?"

He takes a second, makes sure his voice is functioning. It's not even ten yet; she must have woken up, read his email, and jumped on the train. It's a lot to process.

"Yeah. Of course."

He steps aside so she can get past him, watches as she takes in the room. It's strange, realizing she hasn't been in here before, realizing he's never actually been inside her new apartment. They're so _careful_ with each other, like they're afraid they're going to break what's left of them.

He really hopes he didn't. But he can't imagine she came all this way to break his heart again. There's no need to do that right away. She could take her time with it.

When he closes the door, she startles and turns back to him. Her face is wide open, spooked, and he tries out a smile. It's not a big deal, right? They can survive whatever she has to say.

"I don't think I've really been in love with you for eight years," she blurts out, and he nearly laughs. It's just--so Clarke.

"Okay," he says. Maybe she did come to break his heart. At least she'll be funny about it.

"I mean, I never got over you," she says, and the relief is so great that he nearly sags with it. She never got over him either. He wasn't the only one. "But it wasn't--" He can see her swallow, and then she smiles a little, this warm, fond, private smile. "I don't know what you were like. I don't know what you were doing. So I don't think I could have been in love with you. But I loved you before, and I love you now, and I've never--no one else has ever even come close." She nods, mostly to herself, and then her eyes meet his, and he can't breathe for all the emotion he sees there. "You're it. You're all I want."

He laughs, which maybe isn't the ideal reaction to the girl he loves telling him he loves her too, but he can't help it, he's just so _relieved_. "Thank fucking god," he teases, and Clarke crosses the room in two steps, launching herself into his arms so hard he actually staggers. He clings back, burying his nose against her hair and breathing her in. She uses the same shampoo she used when they dated, and it's nostalgic in all the best ways.

He can't believe how much he missed her.

"Sorry," she murmurs. He thinks she might be sniffling.

"I honestly have no idea what you're apologizing for," he says, keeping his voice gentle and just a little teasing. "This is the best possible way this morning could have gone for me." She smiles a little, and he tugs her closer, rubbing her back. "The last five months have sucked, right?" he murmurs.

Her fists clench in his shirt, involuntary, as if she wants to keep him from getting away. "No. Definitely not. I wouldn't give up a second. Just--I missed you so much."

He kisses her hair. "Yeah. I know exactly what you mean."

They just hold each other for a long minute; honestly, Bellamy's not sure they'll ever _stop_ holding each other. He certainly doesn't want to. "Did I wake you up?" she finally asks.

He feels himself smile. "Not really. I was lying in bed, freaking out that I actually sent that email."

"I'm really glad you did." She pulls back far enough she can look at him, but no farther than that.

If she wants to stop hugging him so they can make out, he could probably live with that. He'd make it work.

But instead, she says, "I didn't get much sleep either. Do you want to take a nap?"

"A _nap_?" he asks, incredulous. And then he thinks about it, because he's pretty tired even with the caffeine, and she probably is too, and he could be curled in his bed with Clarke in his arms again, cuddled in close, so, fine, she's a genius. "Yeah, that actually sounds great."

She lets out a small huff of laughter and lets go of him so she can get her shoes off. After a brief pause, she also undoes the button on her jeans and slides those off, and he tries not to stare at her bare legs and polka dot underwear for about half a second, before he remembers that she loves him and is taking off clothes in preparation for sleeping with him. She doesn't mind if he's checking her out

When she catches him in the act, she just smiles. "Sleeping in jeans sucks."

"I wasn't objecting." He steps in, leans down, and kisses her, quick and dry, because he's tired of not doing that too. She smiles against his lips, doesn't move closer, but they're both grinning when he pulls back, and he guides her to the bed. She really must be exhausted, because her eyes drift shut almost as soon as they're settled, her legs tangled in his, her hand over his heart, her head resting against his chest.

He doesn't fall asleep quite as quickly, his body still coming down off the adrenaline of the last few hours, his senses overloaded from having her so close.

But she'll still be there when he wakes up, and once he remembers that, it's easy to snuggle closer, let his eyes slide shut, and drift off.

She's not going anywhere.

*

His first few seconds of consciousness are incredibly confusing, but once he remembers that Clarke's the one making the annoyed noise and her phone is what's buzzing, everything becomes clear and, more importantly, _awesome_. Except for the part where he's awake and Clarke is trying to move, so he follows her when she goes to grab her phone, and wraps his arm around her when she settles with her back against his chest to check it.

"Raven," she tells him. "She was asleep when I left."

He kisses her shoulder, where her t-shirt has slipped down. "Huh. You should pick up. Or at least text her."

"Yeah." She sighs and picks up. "Hi, sorry." He cant hear Raven's exact response, but it's definitely annoyed, and Clarke makes a face. "I'm with Bellamy," she says, and waits for a minute before she sees that Raven actually hung up on her and switches to the texts. She holds up the phone so he can read them too, and he snorts.

Clarke sends her a quick apology text and then puts the phone on his nightstand, shifts so she can look at him again. "I really should have left a note."

He grins. " _Bellamy sent me a really over-dramatic email, I need to deal with that_."

She bites her lip, traces her fingers up his chest, a light touch that makes him shiver. He definitely woke up hard, and he's hoping Clarke wants to help him out with that. "It's a good thing I didn't see it last night," she muses. "I would have gotten a taxi and woken you up. I've been trying to figure out how to tell you since the camping trip."

It's good to have confirmation, but--fuck, he could have been doing this for a month. "Jesus. I was about ready to ask you out to dinner at the coffee shop when Lexa showed up."

She looks a little exasperated, but not in a bad way. "I never lost touch with Lexa. If I wanted to be dating her, I would be. She's got a girlfriend right now, Costia. They're pretty serious."

That makes him feel even better, but not enough that he doesn't want some reassurance. "I was so fucking jealous of her. When we were dating. She knew all your friends and all your Harvard stuff. I was sure your parents loved her. She fit into your life and I knew I was never going to."

She shakes her head. "Bellamy. It didn't matter. Not like that. I thought--" Her fingers tighten on his shirt again. "I hated seeing how awkward it was for you, I felt so shitty putting you through all that judgement and pretension. It was never about you. But I was nineteen, I didn't know how to navigate that."

"I know," he assures her. "I didn't either." He can say it now, when she's back in his bed, when he knows she went though the same thing he did. Or--not the _same_ thing. But knowing that it was hard for both of them, it's easier to admit it was probably right, too. "Honestly, it probably would have fucking sucked, if we stayed together back then. Four years of that would have been so hard. Four months was bad enough."

"Yeah." He hears her exhale, like she's steeling herself for something. "But you're here, and I'm here, and I love you, so do you want to get dinner?"

"Fuck," he says, laughing. "Dinner's not for _hours_. I don't want to wait that long."

Clarke laughs at that, and apparently that's the last straw for him. He really, really needs to be kissing her right now, and she's still smiling when his mouth catches hers. It doesn't last long, though, because she's kissing him back, tugging him closer, pulling him on top of her so he can press her into the mattress. Her mouth is hot and eager under his, and her hands are roaming everywhere, too excited to be touching him again to settle anywhere.

He knows the feeling.

"Not that we have to--" he manages, between kisses, and Clarke wraps her leg around his so she can rub up against his thigh.

"Were you listening to all those conversations about how I'm single and never get laid?" she asks.

He can't help a grin. "Intently."

"Good."

They seem to be moving pretty quickly to nudity, which he's all for, but Clarke pauses as soon as his shirt is off, staring in open admiration that's so flattering it almost makes up for the fact that she's still got her shirt on.

"I was really pissed when Miller told me you joined the navy," she tells him her fingers tracing patters over his chest. "Like--I couldn't figure out _why_ , and I spent so long googling to see if you were going to be in active war zones or whatever. But I have to say, I really appreciate the bonus muscle."

"I know the only reason you're into me is that I work out, yeah." He leans in to kiss her jaw, one of the spots he remembers her liking, and she gasps. "I joined because of you," he admits. "Not like--you were right. I wanted to go to school, and that was the way I could do it."

"Yeah. I'm glad you did." Her mouth curves into a wicked smile, and one of her hands tangles in his hair. "This is good background, but you know you could be getting me naked right now, right?"

It takes a lot of his self-control to kiss down her neck, instead of ripping her clothes off. It's a sacrifice he's willing to make, for dramatic effect. "Sorry, I thought you were still admiring my seamen body."

She groans. "Don't call yourself a seamen when we're about to have sex, it makes me want to make bad jokes. When, again, we could be getting naked and having actual sex."

A thought occurs to him, and he frowns. "I don't stock condoms. Did you bring any?"

"No. Are you clean?"

He hasn't gotten tested in a little while, but he hasn't had sex since then either. "Yeah," he says, slow. "But I'm really not ready to be a father."

"I've got the implant. And I'm clean too, so--"

The suggestions startles him back, and he stares, unsure for a minute. Part of him doesn't want it to be a big deal. It's not _unprotected sex_. They're both clean, and the protection is to prevent pregnancy, which is what the implant does. But it's something they never did before, something he's never done with _anyone_. He's always used a condom, thinks of them as an inherent part of sex. If you don't use a condom, it means--

Well, it doesn't mean anything that isn't true of how he feels about Clarke. And she's just watching him this whole time, patient and smiling, and it's easy to be sure. It's easy to lean in, to kiss her, to pull her shirt off and take her in, smooth skin and perfect breasts, all he wants for the rest of his life.

"So, I love you," he says. "I'm pretty sure you're it for me."

There's no hesitation at all. "Yeah. Me too."

"Just getting that on the record," he says, and takes her bra off so he can stare at her breasts again. He hasn't done a comprehensive study or anything, but he'd bet money that science could actually _prove_ Clarke Griffin has the world's most perfect breasts.

"It's on the record," she assures him. "I've got the email. Do you need me to reply so you've got documentation or--"

He bites her shoulder and then slides down. "I'm going to eat you out now. So you can just shut up."

Her laughter dies on her lips as he presses kisses over her breast, relearning the feel of it under her mouth. She squirms a little, moaning, and his mouth is almost watering at the thought of her getting wet, at the knowledge that she'll be ready for him when he makes his way down there. It's a real effort to take his time, much as he loves her breasts, because he's only been with guys since they broke up, and while he likes blow jobs, he _loves_ cunnilingus. And Clarke is an incredibly receptive audience.

She fumbles a little and links their hands together, and that grounds him. He doesn't have to rush. He's going to be able to do everything he wants to her.

He nuzzles the hollow between her breasts. "Fuck, I missed you. You're all I've been able to think about for months."

"Me too. I was so scared I--" 

Her voice catches, and he drops a kiss next to her nipple. "I know," he tells her, even though it feels a little bit like a lie. He figured it out from how she clung to him; he hadn't realized, how afraid she'd been that he'd never forgive her. If he'd known, he would have told her sooner.

She squirms a little, and he kisses down her stomach, giving her a smirk when he gets to her hips. "I'm probably pretty rusty. But I hear you're pretty hard up."

"Please," she says, voice so raw it almost cracks, and his heart half breaks. He surges up for a kiss, slow and long, pouring all the love and devotion he's been pretending died when they broke up into it. She kisses back, follows his mouth when he pulls away, and he has to smile.

"I've got you," he tells her, and gives her one more kiss before he settles back between her legs.

Winding her up is one of his favorite things, and now that he's sure she's the good kind of desperate, he's okay with drawing it out. He doesn't go right for her clit, even though he can smell her arousal, can practically taste it. He kisses her thighs, sucks a bruise into one, runs his hands up her calves and higher, until she's moaning again, until her hips are stuttering into the air with the need for his touch.

And then he lets himself lean in, take her clit in his mouth, suck it and tease it, remembering all the things she loved, all the ways he can drive her out of his mind.

"Fuck," she breathes, voice ragged. "Bellamy, yeah, just--"

He gives her knee a quick squeeze, all reassurance, and brings his hand up to push one finger in, not sure she's wet enough yet, and he nearly moans when she is, slick and ready for him, desperate. He slides out and pushes back in, crooking his fingers up, feeling out where she's most sensitive now from the way her breath catches and her hips jerk. 

The closer she gets, the louder she gets, just like he remembers, small sounds turning into words, _yes_ and _please_ and _Bellamy_ , and he sucks relentlessly, fingers pumping inside her until she gasps and arches up, coming apart for him, release flooding through her.

He slows down a little as she comes down, doesn't want to hurt the sensitive skin, but he has no plans of stopping, not when she's still so hot and tight, not when the feel of her around him is even better than he remembered.

But she tugs him up for a long, wet kiss, licking into his mouth like she wants find every trace of herself in there, and he has to laugh. "You know we can kiss any time, right?" he teases.

"I know." She bites her lip and gives him a wicked grin. "But that's not what I want right now." 

Before he knows it, he's flat on his back, and Clarke's eyes are roving over him greedily, devouring every inch. He was already hard, but her gaze zeroes in on his dick and she _licks her lips_ , and _hard_ no longer feels like a sufficient description of his current state of arousal. He's never been so turned on in his entire life.

"Lube?"

It takes him a second to remember if he has any, but he does, and he grabs it out of the drawer and hands it over. He lets out a groan as her hand curls around him, and his hips jerk in spite of himself. Hand jobs aren't exactly his first-choice for sex, but he really wants her to jerk him off again soon.

It's possible he just wants to do _everything_ with her.

"Ready?" she asks, and he has to laugh.

"You have no idea."

She straddles his hips carefully, easing down onto him, getting used to it. He holds himself still with a monumental effort, settling his hands on her hips to steady her and biting his lip against how good she feels around him without the layer of latex between them.

Once she's settled, she takes a few breaths, and then she leans in to kiss him, and her hips start to move.

She was the last person he did this with, and it's not exactly like riding a bike. Or being the bike, in his case. It takes a little while for them to get the angle right, for him to remember the right way to move, the right way to time his movements with hers, but after a few moments of breathless adjustment it clicks, and Clarke is whimpering, moaning, pushing against him with soft little gasps, and then coming again, her mouth open against his neck, and he rolls them over so he can drive into her, making her cry out on her third orgasm right before he loses it too.

He might be misremembering, but he thinks that might have been their best sex yet.

"I remember we took a lot longer to have sex last time," he tells her, kissing under her ear.

"Yeah," she says, still a little breathless. "But this time I knew how good it was."

There's nothing to say to that, so he kisses her again instead, and she doesn't have any objections.

*

"Is this how you guys are going to be now?" Jasper asks. They're at their favorite diner for breakfast, and Clarke is tucked into his side like she's afraid he'll disappear if she lets go of him. He doesn't mind, but he has to admit it's a little alarming; apparently his near future is going to involve a lot of Clarke not wanting to let go of him. "You guys are just attached at the hip?"

"Better the hip than the lips," Miller says. 

"Depends on what part of the hips," Monty adds, and Bellamy flips him off.

"Sorry we want to snuggle after seven years of separation," he says. "We're definitely the assholes here."

"I just can't support my own weight anymore," Clarke says. "I need Bellamy to prop me up."

"Yeah, that sounds like a real thing," he agrees, and kisses her hair.

"Did you ever try to get in touch?" Jasper asks. He seems more curious about their relationship than upset that they hooked up after he got let down easy, which seems like a good sign. "Before Monty and Miller got together."

"I tried to find him one summer," Clarke says. "Just to see how he was doing. But that was when he joined the navy, and then I was pissed at him for joining the navy and never went back to Maine again. So, no."

"I have like fifteen saved emails I wrote and never sent to her."

Clarke perks up at that. "Really?"

"Yeah," he admits, ducking his head. "I'd--something would happen, and I wanted to tell you, so I'd start an email, but then I'd never send it, because I figured--well, you broke up with me. I didn't think you wanted to hear from me."

"What is it with you and over-dramatic emails?" she teases.

He steals a piece of her bacon. "Everyone needs a thing, right? That's mine."

"I guess it's better than getting drunk and crying about your feelings like me and Jasper do," she decides, and Jasper raises his mug to her in solidarity.

After breakfast, they lag behind the others, taking the walk slow. Clarke's hand is in his, and their shoulders keep brushing against each other, and the whole world seems perfect.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey."

He smiles. "That was setting up a question, not a greeting."

"Hey anyway. What's the question?"

"If I'd sent one of those emails, would you have responded?"

She makes a show of thinking it over. "Depends."

"On what?"

"If I knew you address, I would have just showed up at your door, like I did last night." She squeezes his hand. "Of course I would have. If you'd--I thought you'd never forgive me. If I knew you would, yeah. I would have taken whatever I could get, Bellamy."

Part of him hates it, all the lost time, all those years they could have had, all the things they might have missed.

But he still finds himself smiling in spite of that.

"Well," he says. "Now you get everything."

She leans closer, and he lets go of her hand to wrap his arm around her instead. Maybe she's not the only one who's going to need to stay close for a while. "Yeah. Now I get everything."


End file.
